


It Hurts

by BloodMoonWitch



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Cuddles, F/M, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:41:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27990162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodMoonWitch/pseuds/BloodMoonWitch
Summary: Julian Devorak is a fool that’s unable to accept help until he is in so much pain that he physically cannot deny it anymore.This includes, but is not limited to, some of the worst stress headaches I’ve ever seen.
Relationships: Apprentice/Julian Devorak, Julian Devorak/Original Character(s), Julian Devorak/Reader, Julian Devorak/You
Comments: 1
Kudos: 110





	It Hurts

**Author's Note:**

> Is this my first Julian work? 
> 
> I’m honestly surprised I’ve been writing for this long and I haven’t posted some Julian content yet. I actually have quite a few ideas for him in the works, but I just got caught up in writing about Muriel. 
> 
> To be fair, Muriel . . . 
> 
> Yea. Muriel.

It was no secret that Julian Devorak would find a way to blame himself for anything.

The fall of the last Tsar of Nevivon three hundred years ago? Probably his fault.

And all of this stressing lead my poor Ilya to have the most unbearable headaches. Sometimes they’re a dull ache right behind his eyes that hurts just enough to annoy, and nothing a good calming tea and shoulder massage he begrudgingly lets me give him can’t fix. But other times, the pain is so unbearable that he has to lay as still as possible, preferably half on top of me so that I can hold a warm or cool towel to his forehead and neck, and every slight motion other than the rise and fall of my chest as I try and breath as gently as possible makes him feel like his brain is rattling loosely around in his skull.

Despite the fact that he is a doctor and has access to more than enough medications to help with the pain, he very rarely takes anything without me having to nag him.

Right now, I could tell he was well on his way to one of the worst headaches he’s had in a while.

“Julian?” It was getting late in the evening, and we had been laying in bed for a while casually talking with each other about our days, his at the clinic and mine at the palace. He was slowly regressing, talking less vibrantly and less often as time passed and as the pain continued to grow. He always tried to just push through it instead of getting help, but he couldn’t hide the scrunch of his brown or the tight line his lips were forming. He brought a hand to his temple, rubbing and wincing as he grew unable to fight the ache anymore.

“Darling, let me get something for you.” I didn’t wait for him to respond, knowing he’d probably brush it off. To my surprise, I didn’t hear a word from him as I quickly boiled some water for his favorite tea and dug around in his cabinet for the right medicine.

I walked back to him with a warm mug and a small pouch that he took gratefully, still silent. His eyes had closed when I was away, and he barely opened them for the next few moments as I sat on the bed beside him. The simple fact that I had managed to get some tea in him, as well as something both medicinal and magical to help with the pain, was a sign that he had barely any energy left. I sent out a flicker of magic to dim the lights, leaving only one or two candles on the table on the other side of the room so that we wouldn’t be in total darkness.

“Are you alright, love?” I was hesitant to speak, but I kept my voice as quite and soothing as I could.

“I will be . . . in a minute,” he muttered. I was grateful for his response, but I could see straight through him. He got about halfway through the tea before even drinking took too much energy. I took the mug from him and placed it off to the side to be taken care of later.

“Come lay down with me,” I offered, scooting back on the bed so that he could take his favorite place tucked under my arm and draped on top of me. He settled in slowly, sudden movements had become too dangerous. Later, I would fuss at him for waiting so long to take anything, but I couldn’t bear to be angry with him when he was hurting like this.

I used a bit of magic to cool my hand slightly as I rub gently along the back of his neck, and he sighed heavily at the small ounce of relief it brought.   
  


We stayed like that for only a little while before I felt his chest shake slightly as he exhaled, and I look down to see a few tears fall down his pale cheeks.

“Oh, Ilya . . .”

“It hurts,” he whimpered, a broken, heart wrenching sound. The poor man didn’t have an ounce of strength left in him. And it was all made worse by the fact that I couldn’t do anything more for him until the medicine and magic kick in.

Thankfully, it wasn’t too much longer before the pain eased up and he could finally fall asleep. I don’t exactly remember falling asleep, but when I woke up, I was grateful that he was still asleep beside me. He could use all the rest he could get.

I spent probably way too long just admiring him. Everything from his now relaxed brows, to his nose, to his lips, and even to his obnoxiously red and unruly hair. I tangled my fingers in his curls, slightly longer now than when we had met. I was wondering if he planned to keep growing it or cut it soon when I felt him stirring. His long limbs that had previously been tangled with mine stretch out almost violently, and a loud, deep groan resonated in his chest. This was followed by him sighing contently and immediately scrunching back up on top of me.

“Well good morning,” I laughed.

“Dobroe utro.” He smiles softly, eyes still closed and face still half buried in my chest.

“Are you feeling any better, angel?” He blushed at the nickname, still so adorably and easily flustered, but he did finally look up at me.

“I am. Thank you . . . for last night, I mean. I’m sorry if I-“ I quickly leaned down and stole a kiss, silencing his silly apologies.

“I’m always happy to help you when you need me, my love. Thank you for letting me. Even though it was definitely too late.” He looked down, a little ashamed and biting his lip. “You can’t just sit there and be in pain, Julian. It hurts me to see you hurting.”

“But it’s alright,” I said, throwing on an overly exaggerated and theatric accent, “I know you secretly hate me and revel in torturing my sensitive heart.” I flailed my head backwards and away from him, draping a hand across my brow to really sell the drama of it all.

“Oh, my dear,” he said, and I could practically hear the smirk in his voice as he followed my lead and portrayed a similar character, “I do take great pleasure in your despair! But, you are wrong on one thing,” he flipped the two of us over so that he had me pinned beneath him. “I don’t just hate you, I loath you! In fact, I loath you so much that I married you so that way I could torment you forever-“ He kissed me then, tender and loving. 

“And ever-“ Again, a little more passionately.

“And ever . . .”


End file.
